Punctuated
by MintiNeko
Summary: Long silences and laughter permeate their relationship. Austria/Hungary


**Title:** Punctuated  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Character(s)/Pairing:** Austria/Hungary  
**Warnings:** Implied sexual content  
**Summary:** Long silences and laughter permeates their relationship

* * *

Austria appreciates silence. But he loves music even more. One of his shallower reasons for loving Hungary: she has a lovely voice, the sort of voice that is beautiful even when she means to be menacing, and one that Austria's sensitive ears are more than welcome to hearing.

The first time he hears Hungary laugh aloud, it is their wedding night, in their bed. The sound is light and sweet—the kind of laugh he would expect to hear fall from Hungary's lips.

But the cause of her laughter is not clear, and throws Austria off his rhythm. He halts his movements, blinking down at his wife.

"_Ungarn?"_ he asks, starting to panic, wondering what he's doing wrong—

"Nothing, dear," she laughs again, but it's a reassuring laugh. Her right hand—which has previously rested on his back—moves to run through his hair and lightly tug on Mariazell. "Please, keep going, I'll tell you later."

She whispers the second part in his ear, and pulls him down, pressing his mouth against hers fully, returning his attention back to her and _them_ and the movement of their bodies.

* * *

She keeps her promise as they lie entwined in the afterglow.

"Just to be clear: I wasn't laughing at you," she murmurs, pulling up the sheets and cuddling into Austria's chest, absently stroking his arm.

"Then why, pray tell, were you laughing at all?" asks Austria, only really half-awake at this point, the agitation over his brief lapse having ebbed away.

He feels, rather than sees, her smile against his skin.

"I'm just happy," she says. "I love you."

"I love you too," he returns, blushing slightly, but feeling more pleased than embarrassed at her second peal of laughter, even sweeter than the first.

* * *

Austria grows accustomed to Hungary's laughter. It fills his lonely house and eases his mind, even when he's quarreling with other nations and working to expand his borders.

They begin to build up his house again, collecting territories, nurturing ambitions. Increasingly, they are brought into conflict with Russia over the Baltic States, but manage to pull through.

He attends meetings, plays the piano, and makes love to Hungary whenever he can. He focuses on their relationship, nursing it and nurturing it and ensuring that even as the world fights, they remain strong.

* * *

Archduke Franz Ferdinand is dead.

Hungary hasn't laughed in nearly a month. The silence is painful as they work their way through that hot summer month, drawing up impossible demands and deliberately plotting for war.

* * *

After the Great War, they are divorced.

As nations, it is logical. Hungary's people want autonomy, and the nations under them are more than happy to leave the Austria-Hungary house. And Austria doesn't have the power to make them stay.

As nations, they can no longer be together.

As people, they are not so eager to part.

October 31, 1918. Their marriage is completely dissolved.

She kisses him harshly, not crying, but not smiling either. He holds her tightly, unwilling to let go.

"We'll see each other later, right?" she asks, when they part.

Austria only nods. "I suppose we shall."

She laughs a little at his formality, clipped and cool.

Austria finds he hates the sound.

* * *

Five years later, their bosses reestablish diplomatic relations.

Hungary's changed, as has he. She's fiercer than ever before, and they clash over many issues, from Charles I to Burgenland. She's dealing with communism and a hundred and one other , on the other hand, has been spared some grief, though he has woes, financial and otherwise to attend to.

Then comes World War II.

The war is hell for Austria, and he's fairly certain that Hungary is much worse off. By the time it's over, he's been bruised and nearly broken. The Allies are swarming all over him, but they are helping him, beating back the Reds and stabilizing his government, so he isn't as indignant as he probably should be. All of them look tired, even the jubilant America, and no one is rubbing it in his face, so the indignity of the situation is somewhat eased.

He glimpses Hungary once during a standard walk along the border. She is with Russia, discussing something as they walk, looking pale and wrapped in bandages. He slows down, considers retreating until he's certain the two have passed. His desire to speak with Hungary again is strong; his desire to stay as far away from Russia as possible is stronger.

But before he can fully retreat, she spots him. Though her features are barely distinct from such a distance, he thinks he sees her smile gently in his direction, before turning and moving away from where he is standing, Russia none the wiser.

Or maybe he is the wiser, and simply doesn't consider Austria worth the effort.

Either way, the maybe-smile sticks with Austria. The memory haunts his thoughts, as America and Russia begin to quarrel and a curtain is pulled across Europe, separating him from Hungary.

For the next few decades, Austria finds that when he needs to find his peace of mind, he can walk along the barrier, find a certain spot, sit, and just think.

As foolish as it is, he likes to imagine that Hungary is right on the other side, doing the exact same thing, arms folded around her knees, pressing her back against the barrier too, sharing his silence.

It's only a fantasy. But it's one that helps him sleep a little better.

He never has direct contact with Hungary, but he still tries to let her know he cares in other ways. During the Hungarian Revolution, for a particularly bloody example, he supports her cause despite his neutrality, and when it fails, her refugees are welcomed by the thousands onto his land, each one received with warmth and sympathy.

Soon after that particular occurrence, he finds a note tied to a stone resting less that a foot away from where he normally rests.

It reads '_Thank you', _in Hungary's familiar, bold script.

* * *

In the 1970s, Hungary's new boss reduces the communist oppression she has been facing, and Austria's boss is soon establishing relations with him.

Come 1989, and the barriers separating Austria and Hungary are dismantled.

They meet up after all the others have dispersed. Austria can feel himself smiling in a way he has not for a very long time.

"Austria," Hungary speaks first, also smiling. She still looks too pale to be healthy, but the color is returning, and Austria can easily see her as being healthy and happy once more.

"Austria," she repeats his name, still smiling, and Austria feels almost light-headed, properly hearing her voice for the first time in God-knows how long.

"_Ungarn_," he breathes. "It has been a long time."

"It has," she agrees—not that she would ever disagree with that statement, he hopes—and embraces him so tightly he almost fears broken bones. He inhales deeply, breathing in her scent and working one hand free in order to gently trace the familiar flower in her hair.

"I've missed you," he says.

"And I you," she responds, burying her face into his shoulder. "I've missed you, your music, even Chopin. I'd spend hours out here, just wanting to even _pretend_ to hear you playing that piano, even outside in the freezing cold."

"A very romantic gesture. But not a very practical one, wouldn't you say?"

"Of course, Austria." The vibrations into his coat and the shaking of her shoulders tell him that Hungary is laughing, though whether it is at the image or just at him is uncertain.

Either way, he relishes the sound.

* * *

These days, they are spending most of their time together. Hungary flits in and out of Austria's house like it's her second home, while Austria spends not-insignificant chunks of time in Hungary's home—though he usually ends up attempting to put it into better order as opposed to spending 'quality time' with Hungary, much to her exasperation.

They are lovers again, married in every way but in name.

Austria still spends his time cleaning and being uptight and playing his music.

Hungary still laughs when they make love, or when Austria is flustered or in any uncomfortable position. And Austria, despite his discomfort, still likes hearing her laugh.

But they like their silences equally well. Whether Hungary is listening to Austria play his music or merely resting together after sex, it is never uncomfortable.

That is all that they want.

* * *

Author's notes: That was both very fun and a little exhausting. My first Hetalia fanfiction, and one that just sort of came out of my head canon that, for some reason, Hungary laughs during sex. Well, ideas have come from weirder places.

History is from Wikipedia, and I apologize for any errors. Hopefully none of them are too major.

So, what did you think?


End file.
